


and it feels just like the ground

by Stein



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Introspection, M/M, References to Drugs, Romance, discussion of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 01:16:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8870068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stein/pseuds/Stein
Summary: It’s a weird train of thought. It’s a weird everything when nothing seems like it used to be, and yet, nothing seems like anything new. Sometimes Hyunwoo feels like pulling Minhyuk close, resting his chin on the top of his hair, and staying. Just staying. Staying. Motionless.(His heart does a funny thing in his chest.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [blancsetnoirsr1](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/blancsetnoirsr1) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Lee Minhyuk is a delinquent, high school drop-out, drug consumer boy. Son Hyunwoo is a straight A college student. Both are broken-hearted, both are fall in love with each other, but maybe is too good to be true.
> 
>  
> 
> Title comes from Rusted Wheel, by Silversun Pickups. (I think it's a really nice song)
> 
> (I revised this three times already, but, anyway, if anything catches your attention, please, let me know.)

Basic human relationships are based on connection. It’s raw, unfiltered feeling that guides society more than any other force ever could — it may be greed, it may be love, it may be desperation; it’s  _ something _ , something that drives people around and guides them through their lives.

It’s relatively simple, then: you connect. You make friends. You live. It’s easy. It’s _ supposed _ to be easy.

(Hyunwoo’s life is summarized in three simple words that shape his future in a way that’s anything but bright: he can’t connect.)

  
  
  


Hyunwoo doesn’t have a good relationship with his classmates. Didn’t have one as a kid, didn’t have one as a teen, and doesn’t have one as a college student. It’s not that he tries really hard to be the different one, singled out from every other person at his class — it just happens, and he can’t really bring himself to do anything about it. It’s not that he doesn’t  _ try _ , honestly, he’s just… A bit awkward when it comes to socializing.

So, yeah. Hyunwoo doesn’t have a good relationship with his classmates. Didn’t have one as a kid, didn’t have one as a teen, and doesn’t have one as a college student. Stop it right there, and nothing ever changes — except for one single detail, one single thing that just doesn’t fit no matter how much Hyunwoo searches through his memory to remember if anything of sorts had ever happened to him before (it hasn’t).

He hadn’t been expecting the teasing. Not really.

They don’t do it because they want to be cruel. At least, Hyunwoo doesn’t think that’s the reason — it’s not like he would understand anyway. The name calling, the whispers behind his back, the jokes they think he doesn’t get; it’s so  _ weird _ because Hyunwoo gets it, he  _ does _ , he just  — doesn’t think it’s funny. At all. So he doesn’t react.

They’re not being  _ cruel _ . Hyunwoo doesn’t think they are. They’re picking on him, sure, but as long as no one gets hurt — and he doesn’t feel hurt by them, he doesn’t feel  _ anything _ towards them —, there shouldn’t be a problem, right? It’s not like they’re  _ lying _ , anyway. It’s not like they’re making up facts about him, spreading out rumours to try and tear his life apart.

There is nothing they could possibly say, no joke they could possibly tell, that would ever hurt him. So Hyunwoo leaves it at that.

  
  
  


Lee Minhyuk does not frequent his classes. Hyunwoo knows he doesn’t — and maybe if he did, they wouldn’t have met, or become friends, or anything.

Maybe things would’ve ended differently for both of them.

  
  
  


It’s not his laugh, characteristic and loud, which attracts attention, nor the silver hair — which used to be blue, used to be pink, used to be rainbow-coloured before — reflecting all kinds of light from the seat by the window. It’s rather the sound of his footsteps when he drags his feet around the library, how his finger beat tap-tap-tap against the hard covers of the books on the shelves, his quiet giggles after reading summaries he thought were particularly funny. Hyunwoo — it’s not in his  _ nature _ , it’s not who he is, because he just, honestly, doesn’t  _ care _ about what people do on their free time. So he doesn’t pay Minhyuk any mind the first few times. He doesn’t even  _ realize  _ Minhyuk is there.

Not until the day the guy comes and tags along by the same table hidden just around the corner, where no one else ever comes, no one ever bothers him. Hyunwoo remembers putting down the book — some Physics thing he’d needed to know when next semester came around but couldn’t come to be interested in just then — and frowning at the other.

Minhyuk gave him a smile — a toothy, mischievous grin that made him look like a teenager — and said nothing.

Hyunwoo went back to reading.

  
  
  


“You’re not the type to talk much, are you?” Minhyuk asks him.

It’s been a month, more or less, since he started coming to sit by Hyunwoo at the library. They haven’t talked, not really, and sometimes Hyunwoo doesn’t even realize Minhyuk is there until he lifts his eyes to check the hour and sees him. Yet, Minhyuk keeps coming, unbothered by his lack of social skills or the will to start a conversation — he doesn’t seem to mind that Hyunwoo barely acknowledges he’s there sometimes.

Hyunwoo’s not sure how to feel about that.

“Gonna take that as a yes.” and there it is: the unpredictable, soft, gummy smile that sometimes makes something at the bottom of Hyunwoo’s heart tremble.

He’s not sure how to feel about that, either.

  
  
  


Minhyuk, Hyunwoo will learn with time, is like a free spirit. He loves what he loves and he’s not afraid of showing it to the world — he does the things he does and he’s not afraid to hold his head high and say “it was me. I did it”. But he’s also fragile, and insecure, reaching out to things he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get. If Hyunwoo was the type to feel poetic about life, he would compare Minhyuk to Icarus — flying high and high and high, hungry for the sky, wanting to reach the stars and everything above with his delicate wax wings. Careless and free and  _ the most beautiful thing _ .

(He forgets the part in which Icarus’s wings melt and he falls down to his death. No one pays attention to sad stories because, in the end, that’s all they are, all they can ever be — sad.)

  
  
  


A lifetime passes. In reality, no more than a few more weeks — in Hyunwoo’s sense of time, the whole universe shifts. It feels like a slot, a place previously empty, has just been filled, and everything changes even if things stay the same. He doesn’t know how to pinpoint exactly when it happens. It’s just — gradual, like a work in progress. Minhyuk will do or say something, and Hyunwoo will find himself quietly admiring him. How his smiles are sudden, unpredictable, how his eyes reflect the light. Sometimes, how soft and kissable his lips seem, how beautiful his hands are, long, thin fingers against the table wood — how much Hyunwoo would like to pull him close and…

It’s a weird train of thought. It’s a weird  _ everything _ when nothing seems like it used to be, and yet, nothing seems like anything new. Sometimes Hyunwoo feels like pulling Minhyuk close, resting his chin on the top of his hair, and staying. Just staying. Staying. Motionless.

(His heart does a funny thing in his chest.)

  
  
  


There’s a party. Hyunwoo is not a party kind of guy. Most of times he’s not even invited — he used to be, but then people realized he just wouldn’t come and stopped asking. He’s never missed then, never regretted not going, and life kept simple.

This time, things are different. Hyunwoo doesn’t know the host. If asked, he probably wouldn’t recognize half the people who are going. But Minhyuk looks at him with soft, hopeful eyes, and asks if he wants to go. If Hyunwoo would go with him. And despite not caring one bit about the party itself, Hyunwoo — Hyunwoo cares about Minhyuk. To some degree.

So he says yes.

  
  
  


Minhyuk kisses him, and Hyunwoo lets him.

He’s Son Hyunwoo, he doesn’t  _ do _ nervous — but when Minhyuk’s lips touch his, cold and still tasting like the drinks he had at the party, he’s frozen on his spot, heart thundering loudly against his chest.

He’s kissed before. There was a girl, when he was fifteen — wide eyes, pretty lips, velvet voice that draws people in —, who decided that kissing just wasn’t for her. There was this boy, when Hyunwoo was eighteen — a boy so afraid of liking another man that his words would follow Hyunwoo even now, five years later.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. He doesn’t believe much things — sometimes, he doesn’t believe in anything. But whatever the hell he’s feeling now, it couldn’t, it just can’t, be wrong.

So Minhyuk kisses him, and Hyunwoo lets him — puts his hands on Minhyuk’s hips and pushes him closer, closer, until their bodies overlap, until his lungs protest for air, until he can barely tell them apart, until he can no more say where he ends and Minhyuk begins.

Minhyuk kisses him, and Hyunwoo lets him, and once more the world around him shifts.

 

(Minhyuk goes home with him but they don’t do anything more. Minhyuk falls asleep with his head on Hyunwoo’s chest, his arm draped over Hyunwoo’s stomach. Hyunwoo sleeps with Minhyuk’s taste in his mouth.)

.

  
  


The morning after isn’t uncomfortable. Not as much as it could be, anyway. There’s a lot of silence, of course, but it’s not a  _ heavy silence _ . Minhyuk hasn’t moved an inch, and Hyunwoo can feel the rhythm of his breathing against his skin. It’s — it feels good. Comfortable. Surprisingly easy.

  
  


“Are you serious about this?”

“Hm?”

“This. Us.”

Hyunwoo is… Uncomfortable. Not for the question, per se, but for the hidden meaning behind it. What’s the answer? There’s even a right answer? Is he supposed to know?

He settles on honesty.

“I… Yeah. I think I am.” Hyunwoo  _ feels _ rather than  _ sees _ Minhyuk’s body tensing against him.

Wrong answer.

“Minhyuk?” he asks, just as the boy gets up from the bed, not even looking at him. He takes his things surprisingly fast — Hyunwoo is barely up and he has to run to catch up to the boy.

“Minhyuk.” he says.

Asks. Pleads? Hyunwoo isn’t sure what he’s doing, if he’s doing anything at all..

Minhyuk stops at the door. He doesn’t turn to face him.

“Don’t come after me. Do whatever the hell you want, just‒ don’t come after me.”

And leaves. He leaves. He  _ leaves _ , and Hyunwoo doesn’t know what he should do.

Should he go after Minhyuk? Should he chase the other even if he has explicitly told him not to? Should he stay? Staying makes a heavy weight settle on his shoulders. He doesn’t  _ want _ to stay. He doesn’t know  _ what _ he wants, exactly — maybe he wants to understand, maybe he wants Minhyuk to come back, maybe he wants to keep cuddling on his bed and pretend nothing has ever happened —, but he doesn’t want to stay.

He does it anyway.

 

(Later that same night, he wishes he hadn’t.)

  
  


Hyunwoo doesn’t see him for a month.

It’s strange, to put it simply. It’s not as much as having gotten used to Minhyuk — his laugh, his quiet smile, how he never stops, never stays still for time enough for Hyunwoo to forget he’s there — as much as it is  _ missing _ him. It’s...  _ Weird _ . Because Hyunwoo is not used to dealing with things like these, feelings like these. He doesn’t connect, people just don’t come close enough for him to get attached to them; because they don’t want to, because he doesn’t let them, it doesn’t really matter.

But Minhyuk — as cliché as it sounds — is not like other people. He doesn’t seem to care that Hyunwoo never knows what to say, that he never knows what is expected of him, that he doesn’t feel  _ comfortable _ putting his feelings out there like they’ll change something. Minhyuk sticks around and‒ he‒ sometimes he makes Hyunwoo feel that it doesn’t matter that he’s not good at this — that he’s not good at  _ any of this _ .

Sometimes, Minhyuk makes Hyunwoo feel like he belongs.

 

(The slot previously filled empties again. Hyunwoo expects things to go back to what they were before — before he knew Minhyuk, before his heart started fluttering at the soft sound of footsteps turning around the corner on the library,  _ before _ —, but they don’t. He feels lost.)

  
  
  


Then he comes home one day to find Minhyuk there, by the corridor, with dreamy eyes.

  
  
  


“You’re high.”

Minhyuk doesn’t even try to deny it — doesn’t shake his head, doesn’t try to get up from his spot on the ground, doesn’t say anything but a slurred “yep” back at him.

And Hyunwoo, well. He’s not — he’s not  _ disappointed _ . That’s not the word. He’s not mad. He’s not frustrated, or anything, just — he doesn’t  _ know _ . It’s been a tough day, a tough week and he  _ doesn’t know _ . It’s just kinda spiralling down to the heavy feeling at the bottom of his stomach and it’s not something he’s used to feel, it’s not something he can brush off like he would anything else before because‒

Because Minhyuk  _ matters _ , Hyunwoo realizes. Because Minhyuk with his scandalous laugh and his gorgeous hair, his bright eyes and his criminal tendencies, his nervous quirks and how softly his fingers tap against anything that’s even remotely close to him —  _ he matters _ .

 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“But I‒”

“No.”

“Minhyuk.”

“I mean it  Don’t. It’s easier to talk to you when I can pretend you don’t care.”

It feels like a punch, more than it should. For a whole second, Hyunwoo feels like he can barely  _ breath _ — and he doesn’t know what shows on his face, but there must be something, because Minhyuk’s eyes turn sad.

“I have something I gotta show you.”

Hyunwoo — he doesn’t know. Doesn’t want to know, maybe. He’s not the best at communicating but to think that Minhyuk — bright, smiling, soft Minhyuk — feels like, like  _ that _ ‒

“Minhyuk…”

The boy turns angry. His face closes off.

“It’s serious!  _ I’m _ serious!”

And before Hyunwoo can stop him, Minhyuk’s pushing up the sleeves of his shirt and showing his arms off to Hyunwoo like they’re something he has to be ashamed of. It barely takes him a second to realize what he’s supposed to be seeing, and Hyunwoo has never seen scars like these before. He know what they mean, theoretically, but he’s never seen them on anyone before — thin and pale, numerous lines covering both of Minhyuk’s arms up to his elbows.

(If before it felt like a punch, now feels like a bucket of cold water — it doesn’t necessarily  _ hurt _ , but it’s not a good feeling, either.)

“See? See? That’s why you can’t like me. I’m  _ broken _ , Hyunwoo. You can’t love someone who’s broken.”

 

Hyunwoo disagrees.  _ You’re not broken _ , he wants to say. But even if he did, chances are that Minhyuk won’t even remember it by the morning. So he does what he thinks anyone would if put in the same situation as his: he brings Minhyuk in.

“C’mon. You should rest a bit.”

“But I’m not sleepy!”

 

(Half an hour into the night, and Minhyuk is dead asleep on his bed.)

  
  
  


Minhyuk wakes up sometime after eight. He takes one look — only one look — at Hyunwoo, who’s already awake and sitting by the bed, to realize things are off.

It doesn’t take long for him to realize his pushed up sleeves. There goes one more long, hard look at his wrists, before he turns his head and stares straight at Hyunwoo, face unreadable.

“Are you mad?”

Hyunwoo stays quiet.

Is he? Even after all the thinking from last night, Hyunwoo takes his time to figure out how he feels about this. He’s not going to give Minhyuk some half-assed answer — he deserves more consideration than that.

“Hyunwoo?” Minhyuk tries again after a few minutes have passed, hesitantly this time, hands freezing mid-action through reaching out to him, and Hyunwoo’s heart does  _ something _ in his chest; he reaches out himself before even considering it might not be a good idea.

“No.”

“You‒ really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

He’s not mad. He’s confused, shocked, surprised — name it as you want. But he’s not mad, and he doesn’t think he would have the right to be — or to judge.

And yet, he wants to know.

“Do… Do you want to talk about it?”

It may not be the right time, since it’s so soon, but he needed to take the words out of his chest. He needed to put the offer out there, because otherwise he knows it wouldn’t feel right. He’s not trying to play counselor, he’s not demanding anything — he just wants Minhyuk to know he’s there. If Minhyuk wants him to be.

“No.” not right now. Maybe not ever.His words from last night play in endless repeat on Hyunwoo’s mind.

_ It’s easier to talk to you when I can pretend you don’t care. _

“Okay.”

  
  
  


Things change again after that. Minhyuk turns a bit more serious. Sometimes Hyunwoo will come back to his apartment and find him there, by the door, glassy eyes and dreamy face; these are the days in which he will have to drag Minhyuk inside and put him to sleep. And then he will take his time to think about — everything.

Sometimes, Minhyuk will prompt him to do something out of the blue. Hyunwoo will ditch classes to go eat ice cream with him, will trade going to the library with going to coffee shops with crappy songs that Minhyuk always hums along when he’s not paying enough attention. Minhyuk is not a bad influence like it sounds, though. Hyunwoo turns a bit more careless when he’s with him, but when he does stop — stops paying attention to what he’s studying, stops trying to write his essays and things most students are worried about —, Minhyuk is always there to put the books back on his hands and tell him to stop playing around and being lazy.

He feels a lot more sad than he used to be, that’s for sure. But at the same time that being around him feels like Hyunwoo is going up to the clouds, Minhyuk also grounds him. Minhyuk gives him a sense of doing something right.

  
  
  
  


They’re always hanging out together these days. Be it in Hyunwoo’s or Minhyuk’s apartment — a tiny thing he himself described as “say one bad word about my house and I’m never bringing you back” — or going to the movies, or simply walking around the city.

This time, they’re on a park. It’s dark. The weather is nice enough that they can lay on the grass without fear of catching a cold or something. Minhyuk has been pointing constellations for the last half-an-hour or so, and Hyunwoo has been watching him in silence.

It’s a nice thing. For them. There’s still tension on the air, like the other shoe is just waiting for the right moment to drop.

 

(The conversation comes out of nowhere.)

 

“Do you think about it a lot?”

“About what?”

“Death.”

“... No. No, I don’t.”

“I do.”

Hyunwoo doesn’t get it. Not — not honestly. But he stays quiet, and waits for Minhyuk to say something more — if he wants to.

“It’s not that I  _ want _ to die, you know? Not anymore.” Minhyuk stops, as if munching over his words before he spills them out. “But sometimes I wonder how it would feel like to disappear. Just… Vanish. Cease to exist.” Hyunwoo doesn’t like how that sounds. Because Minhyuk is — Minhyuk  _ means _ something. And if he disappears, if he just vanishes as he says… It won’t be the same. Nothing will be the same. Objectively, Hyunwoo knows the world wouldn’t stop it’s course, but part of him wonders if anything would ever feel  _ right _ again — if  _ he _ would ever feel right. “And I wonder — I wonder if anyone would miss me, you know? If my death would mean anything, or… If this is all I’ll ever be.”

Hyunwoo’s heart clenches. He — doesn’t like where this is heading to. Not really.

“Minhyuk.”

“Do you ever have to wonder if you mean anything to the people around you, Hyunwoo?” Minhyuk asks, and his voice is so  _ anguished _ . “Do you ever feel so desperate, so lost, so confused you would gladly walk away from your home, your friends, the people you hold closest just to try and find yourself, only to realize you have no idea who you truly are? Just to realize maybe ‘not enough’ is all‒”

“ _ Minhyuk. _ ”

Minhyuk stops.

“You’re here.”

Hyunwoo is not good at expressing his feelings. He knows this. Everyone, the world and their cousins know this. But — even is just this time — he wants to get this right. Just this time, he wants to reach out. Just this time he wants to  _ connect _ .

“I know that — I know that it’s hard. I can’t even fathom how much, I just know that it is. But you’re  _ here _ . Right here, right now. And I can’t talk for the people in your past, I can’t talk for what you’ve lived through, I can’t… I can’t  _ lie _ to you.”

He stops. Lets his mind wander, lets nervousness wash over him while his hands tremble against Minhyuk’s face.

“...Hyunwoo?” Minhyuk asks him, voice thin and quiet and barely audible, and Hyunwoo’s heart feels like it’s beating just a bit harder on his ribcage.

“I am in love with you.” he gulps down the lump on his throat; the knowledge that he may be only fucking things up. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I’m making things harder for you. But I — I can’t explain to you why. I just, I love the way you laugh. I love how you’re never apologetic about who you are. I love how your eyes look under the moonlight, and how you hum together to pop songs in coffee shops when you think I’m not paying attention. I love how excited you get when you spot a puppy on the streets and how I can never tell if you’re going to smile at me or‒”

There’s a finger upon his lips, and Hyunwoo’s hopes come plummeting down to the ground.

He hadn’t been — well, he kinda  _ had _ but that’s not the point — he didn’t  _ think _ — but he never does, does he? He just wanted —  _ something _ , he guesses. Just wanted Minhyuk to  _ know _ , somehow, because if he doesn’t, then — then it doesn’t  _ matter _ , but Hyunwoo wanted it to matter, wanted it to  _ mean‒ _

“You’re overthinking.”

 

(He smiles. And doesn’t say anything. But, honestly, he doesn’t need to. When his fingers search for Hyunwoo’s own, intertwining them together slowly — even if he doesn’t say anything, Hyunwoo knows. And he’s glad. He’s happy.)

 

“I want a pic.”

“Uh?”

“A picture. Of us. From now.” at the face of Hyunwoo’s still confused expression, Minhyuk tilts his head and smiles. “C’mon, Hyunwoo, it’s just a photo. I want something I can keep to remember this night.”

 

(Hyunwoo never takes pictures.)

 

“Sorry.” he says, and cringes.

It’s — not an ugly photo, per se, but it’s not beautiful either. It’s unfocused at the edges, and a bit closer to their faces than it should be. Probably. Hyunwoo doesn’t know about photography anyway but‒

“It’s perfect.”

 

(It’s not. But Hyunwoo lets Minhyuk tell him it is. He’s happy.)

  
  


Minhyuk kisses him like he means the world. And sometimes — sometimes Hyunwoo feels like he  _ does _ . He’s not — he knows he’s not the best thing out there; not the best friend, not the best son, not the best at this whole being-a-boyfriend thing. But having Minhyuk hold him close like he’s precious, like he’s someone to be protected instead of the one doing the protecting, like he needs to be cherished and — Hyunwoo feels overwhelmed by the amount of fondness that he feels for him; for the love consistently growing and tugging at the strings of his heart at the softest touch of Minhyuk’s lips.

There are too many nights spent just holding on to each other as the time goes by. There are too many nights in which Hyunwoo holds Minhyuk close and hopes he can stay like that forever — just… There. And not do anything,  _ anything _ . Just — stay. And hope he can be enough, for just one more night, one more day, one more moment — hope he can be there until eventually Minhyuk finds someone else, someone whose soul is as free as his.

 

(And Hyunwoo  _ dreads _ . He dreads the day he will no longer be able to intertwine their fingers or kiss Minhyuk’s lips red.)

  
  
  


Minhyuk tells him a lot of things. About his past, and his family, and his old friends. How eventually he just drifted apart from them, and how much it hurt to realize he didn’t fit anymore. He tells him the good things — his early childhood and how much he played around, how he’s been energic since forever. But he doesn’t keep the bad things from him, too — the fights, the drugs, and even that one time he got arrested.

Every tiny detail, every word — Hyunwoo feels like he’s falling in love all over again.

  
  
  


“We only ever talk about me. What about you?”

“Uh?”

“Your life, Hyunwoo. Dreams, expectations, childhood. Y’know. Stuff like that.”

“I guess… There isn’t much to tell.”

There isn’t. Really. Hyunwoo’s not an interesting person. His life story is not worth telling. He can’t come up with any childhood memory that might make Minhyuk laugh. He’s lost contact with his friends — more like acquaintances, in truth — from his old neighbourhood just as soon as high school ended, and none of his classmates wanted anything to do with him anyway. His parents are just normal parents; there’s no family drama involving his aunts, uncles, cousins or distant relatives. He doesn’t think about the future that often to have such things as dreams or expectations.

All in all, that’s what Hyunwoo is: plain boring. There’s nothing to tell.

He says as much to Minhyuk — which doesn’t deter the blonde from his curiosity.

“What about college? Your classmates? Friends?”

College is… Not something Hyunwoo wants to talk about. It’s not an experience he wants to share, mostly because he knows how Minhyuk is passionate about things — and if he ever hear words about his classmates… Hyunwoo doesn’t care about it. Not most of time. But Minhyuk would, because that’s just the type of person he is, and Hyunwoo doesn’t want him to get stressed for so little.

It’s not worth it. It’s not worth the amount of trouble it would surely cause. So even if maybe he should, he doesn’t tell.

  
  
  


“Doesn’t it ever bother you?”

“What?”

“Everything. This relationship. The drugs. Me.”

Anyone else, and Hyunwoo would feel like it was a tricky question. The kind of situation where no matter what he says, he’s in the wrong. But it’s not anyone — it’s Minhyuk, and Minhyuk never expects him to say anything but what’s on his mind, on his heart.

If Hyunwoo is able to put it into words, that is.

“I’m not… I’m not here to  _ change you _ , Minhyuk. I‒ It’s you, okay? It’s all about you.  _ I _ don’t get to choose. I don’t get to say what you should or shouldn’t do with your life. If you want to change it’s‒ it’s on you.  _ Your choice. It’s your life _ . I‒ I get why you’re asking me this. I do, I honestly do. But you shouldn’t worry about what  _ I _ think. I’m just, I’m here to support you, okay? I’m not here to  _ fix you _ , things don’t work like that. You’re not a  _ thing _ to be fixed, you’re not  _ broken _ . I’m just‒ here. If you want me to. If you need me to.”

It sounds better in his head than it does aloud. 

Minhyuk stays silent for a really long time before smiling at him.

“... For someone so quiet, you’re actually very good with words, do you know that?”

Hyunwoo feels his cheeks getting warmer.

“I… Uh.”

“Thank you.”

  
  
  


While on his personal bubble things have changed drastically, college doesn’t. The same professors, the same classes, the same colleagues.

The same teasing.

Hyunwoo has had months — years, even — to get used to it. It’s nothing new. It’s nothing different. But somehow, someway, someone must’ve seen him. Must’ve seen them. And when Hyunwoo spots the word on his desk — tiny red letters that seem to mock him —, it’s the first time he feels something inside of him  _ churning _ — hurting and thrashing around and recoiling with  _ fear _ .

Three letters. Only three letters that manage to make him want to curl down and —  _ hide _ . To cover his face because he doesn’t, he’s not ashamed, but this is — this is something he doesn’t know how to deal with.

 

(“Fag”, the word on the desk says, and for the first time since he left his childhood home, Hyunwoo feels like a kid.)

  
  
  


They don’t ever get physical with him. But that doesn’t mean much — not when Hyunwoo feels their heavy stares on his back, the mean eyes, the desire to push him around. He feels sick.

 

(If he comes back home early and Minhyuk finds him there, none of them says anything. But Minhyuk always draws him closer these days, kissing his knuckles tenderly. Hyunwoo is grateful.)

  
  
  


The new semester brings a new student to his classes. Shin Hoseok, straight from Busan, with his fire-coloured hair and doe eyes — he’s immediately dragged into the class “social club”, what with his athletic frame and flirtatious smile.

Hyunwoo barely pays him any mind.

  
  


“I’m Hoseok. Shin Hoseok. But my friends call me Wonho.”

“Uh. Nice.”

“You can call me that, too, if you want. Or maybe not, whatever fits best with you.”

  
  
  


Shin Hoseok — Wonho — is a weird guy. He talks to whomever he wants to, whenever he wants to. He just doesn’t  _ care _ . Sometimes he follows Hyunwoo around, despite the gossip Hyunwoo knows that goes around. Sometimes he doesn’t. Hyunwoo doesn’t know what to do about him. It’s not necessarily  _ bad _ , Hoseok doesn’t do anything that makes him feel uneasy, uncomfortable — he never tries to push Hyunwoo around, or teases him.

It’s not necessarily nice, though. It’s just... Weird.

  
  


(And there are times that Hoseok looks at him and Hyunwoo feels as if he  _ knows _ . These are the times in which Hyunwoo feels like hiding — feels like ignoring him, because he doesn’t like feeling exposed, doesn’t like feeling  _ vulnerable _ , and these are the times in which Hoseok can see right through his act.)

  
  


“Do they bother you?”

“... What?”

“The guys. From our class. Do they bother you?”

“... Not really.” and they don’t. Most of times, now. He can’t say some of the comments don’t get under his skin anymore — some of them  _ do _ —, but…

“It looks like they do.”

Hyunwoo stays quiet.

“You know that it’s not right, don’t you? What they do to you?”

Wonho doesn’t sound demanding. He doesn’t sound like he’s trying to get anything off of Hyunwoo, but Hyunwoo feels defensive nonetheless.

It’s stupid. Really. He, he really _ ‒ _

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay. Fair enough.”

  
  


(They don’t talk about it anymore. And yet, Hyunwoo knows Hoseok watches him a lot more closely after that.)

  
  


He sees them coming from the corner of his eyes and unintentionally tenses up. It’s not a big deal, exactly — or it didn’t use to be. Now it’s becoming something usual, something with which he deals daily, and Hyunwoo is not sure what he’s supposed to do. It was okay as long as it didn’t bother him — but now it does. Now it bothers him, it — it scares him.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t expect Hoseok to realize it — or even to care. But Hoseok does, and his whole demeanor changes. He’s the cheerful kind of guy. Stubborn, has a strong personality, sure, but amicable enough to talk to.

Except for now. Hyunwoo wouldn’t tell he looks the same — face closed off, lips pressed tightly. And when their classmates come at them, Hoseok tenses up his shoulders before they can even open their mouths.

“Fuck off. I don’t care what you think you’re doing. Leave him alone.”

 

(Hyunwoo starts calling him Wonho. He pretends he doesn’t see how happy it makes him.)

  
  


Wonho meets Minhyuk a few weeks later. They hit off like they’ve been friends for a lifetime. Hyunwoo is awkward at first, not sure how to do this because it has never happened before, this whole introducing his friends to his — lover, boyfriend, partner, whatever Minhyuk wants to be. The labels don’t really matter, Hyunwoo guesses.

 

(In fact, as long as he’s happy, nothing much matters.)

  
  


xxxxxxx

 

Fate, if that’s the kind of thing you believe in, works in the weirdest ways.

 

(In the end, if it has to be like this, Hyunwoo guesses he’s just happy they got to be together for a while.)

 

xxxxxxx

  
  


Minhyuk doesn’t hope for things. That’s just not how he is. But somehow, this time he had — he had expected something.  _ Anything _ . He had kinda hoped that he and Hyunwoo could have what they had for the rest of his life.

Objectively, he had known it wouldn’t be like that. Minhyuk is not stupid. He knows that it’s not  _ impossible _ , but he also knows that some things are just not meant to last.

Thing is: he wanted it to last. For as long as the feeling stood there and took roots in his heart, Minhyuk wanted it to last. It’s funny — in a raw, cruel kind of way — how life works. How it gives you everything you have ever wanted just to snatch it away when you’re less expecting.

Minhyuk doesn’t hope for things. That’s just not how he is. He doesn’t think of the better days to come, of tomorrow, of possibilities — he focuses on his present, his right there, right now. It’s not that he’s a pessimist, or particularly realistic — he just lives his life the best way he can and tries to move on.

It’s always been like this. He thought it always would.

 

Then Hyunwoo came along. And suddenly, Minhyuk didn’t want to just move on. He wanted something he didn’t dare to want, to hope for — he wanted love. To love and be loved in return. To care and to be cared for. And nothing anyone could possibly say would convince him Hyunwoo wouldn’t be like anyone in his life from before, that he wouldn’t care for him and then leave him when he realized Minhyuk was not a thing to be tamed and caged down.

No. He didn’t want that. Didn’t want to risk that. So of course — of course Hyunwoo would go there and prove him wrong. Would dare him to do things he never did before, out of fear, out of shame, out of the little pride he had left. Of course Hyunwoo would go there and try to show him things Minhyuk knows — deep deep down — that are true: that he’s capable, that he deserves happiness, that he deserves to be loved, that he’s not broken, that he’s not a thing to be fixed.

Of course Hyunwoo would go there and make Minhyuk fall in love with him. The catchy part? He also fell in love with Minhyuk.

It was nice, what they had.

 

(It was something he really, really wanted, so it’s kind of a given that life would take it from him.)

 

He receives the call on a Thursday.

Wonho is sobbing through the phone, repeating “Minhyuk” and “sorry, I’m sorry” over and over again, tumbling down on his own words. Minhyuk can’t understand him — not when he’s like this —, but whatever words he says are drowned down by the sheer anguish of Wonho’s sounds.

“It’s Hyunwoo…. He’s...”

Two words. Two words is all it takes. Whispered through heavy breathing and tears, hitting Minhyuk like a punch to the gut — it’s scary how clear they sound, despite the trembling of Wonho’s voice.

“He’s dead.”

And like a peck of dust when the wind blows, Minhyuk feels his life crumbling down all around him.

  
  
  


(It was something stupid. There was a car running above the speed limit and a little girl who didn’t pay enough attention to the streets. Of  _ course _ Hyunwoo would help. Noble, selfless, stupid Hyunwoo.)

  
  
  


He barely notices how Wonho’s trembling hand holds his own, as if looking for comfort. He can only look at the casket and feel his heartbeat loud against his ears. Tum-tum. Tum-tum. Tum-tum. He doesn’t realize the ceremony is passing, every syllable, every word, every second coming closer to the moment when it’s going to end — like if it never existed at all; and they’re all going to their houses, their homes, to talk about the old times and the old memories and‒

They ask him if he wants to make a speech. Minhyuk doesn’t — he doesn’t  _ care _ . He doesn’t want to speak, doesn’t want to go, doesn’t want to get up and say goodbye because then — then it’ll feel real. Then he’ll draw the line.  _ Here is where it ends. There is no going back _ .

But he finds himself nodding. Finds himself nodding and dislodging Wonho’s hands from his, walking up the stair to the microphone and staring at the faces of people he’s never seen before — staring at people he’s never heard about before. He wants to scream.  _ Where were you when he needed you. Why do you pretend you care. Why. Why none of you did anything _ . He wants to tell them about Hyunwoo’s struggle — with his life, with others, with his own family. How he didn’t think he had any friends, how he didn’t think he mattered at all, how low he thought of himself. Minhyuk wants — he wants…

He wants to cry. He wants to talk about the good things, about Hyunwoo’s laugh, his eyes turning half-moon. He wants to talk about how tenderly he held Minhyuk, how he hid him in his arms as if he were the most precious thing. About how he never got angry, never yelled, never hit him, never treated him as if he were less than human because of his life choices. There were bad things. There were good things. Minhyuk wants to talk about his kindness and his will to keep going on even when he didn’t see any light, any way out of his problems — wants to talk about the softness of his lips, the fondness of his heart, how  _ brave _ he was.

Minhyuk wants to talk about being in love with the most special person he’s ever met before. But that’s not a story any of them wants to hear, and he knows this, he knows this, he  _ knows _ .

He starts talking anyway.

“Hyunwoo is‒” he stops. Dead on his tracks. It’s  _ there _ , it is; everything is at the tip of his tongue, but then why does it feel like he’s choking on his words? “Hyunwoo used to be‒ he‒” and once more, it won’t come out.

He wants to say it.  _ God _ , he wants to say it. But no matter how hard he tries, the words just, it just won’t come out — all he has to say,  _ needs to say _ , all Hyunwoo is, was,  _ used to be _ , his bright smiles, his awkwardness and his beauty and everything in between. He keeps on trying, breath shallowing, until they come tumbling down his tongue unconnected to each other — his laugh, his hands, his eyes, his dreams, his feelings, and Minhyuk  _ is _ choking. 

“Minhyuk.  _ Minhyuk _ .”

Wonho hugs him. And he — he breaks down, sobbing, heart beating wildly inside his chest, hiding himself from the world and feeling  _ suffocated _ — suffocated by the knowledge that there’s nothing he can do, there’s nothing he can say that will make this any better, that will make this any right again, and Hyunwoo is not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

  
  
  


Wonho visits him a week after the burial. It’s not how Minhyuk planned to tell him — if he planned anything at all. One way or another, it doesn’t take the other too much to realize what’s going on.

(There are boxes all over the apartment.)

“Where are you...?”

Minhyuk shrugs. Doesn’t really want to say, but he knows that he can’t lie, either.

“I’m going away.”

“You’re… What?” Wonho stares at him for a full minute before realizing he’s not stopping, he’s not slowing down. “Minhyuk…”

“I’m not gonna die out there, okay? I’m not… I’m not about to do something like that.” not after what just happened. And for the first time in a while, Minhyuk can say that dying hadn’t been — it hadn’t been on his mind. Not really.

And — it’s weird. It’s a weird feeling.

“I’m just moving out.” at the horrified face he receives, Minhyuk is quick to add: “It’s not permanent.” and Wonho visibly relaxes. Minhyuk wants to tell him he doesn’t need to worry, but it’s Wonho and he knows it’ll be useless, so he stays quiet.

Both of them stay quiet for a while.

“How far?”

It’s a fair question — but a question that tugs at his heartstrings. How far?  _ The farthest that I can go, so far I’ll forget that I exist _ , he wants to say. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to deal with this. With any of this. He — he needs time. And maybe, maybe one day he’ll come at peace with all that has happened.

One day. Not now.

“Just far enough.”

 

(There’s a photo of them safely tucked inside his bag — from that night at the park, when Hyunwoo first confessed to him. And Minhyuk swears, he  _ swears _ , that if he tries hard enough, he can still feel Hyunwoo’s lips over his. It’s the moment Minhyuk thinks they truly connected, for the first time since… Since everything.)

(It’s a memory he wants to keep for as long as he can.)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure this came out how I wanted it to be. But I wrote it nonetheless, because it felt like a story I could tell, if this makes any sense.
> 
> ~~I feel, deep down, like I've killed showhyuk in my heart while writing this. What do I do now? D: ~~~~~~


End file.
